Totally and Utterly Sure
by Satan Abraham
Summary: "Are you sure?" She nods [ishimaru x fukawa] [oneshot] [smut]


"Are you sure?" he asks, and she nods, averting her eyes as she pulls her shirt over her head. His jacket is already off and folded nicely on his desk.

When she'd come to him and asked if he would have sex with her, she hadn't expected him to say yes. Really, she was surprised at herself for asking. But… but she wanted to have sex with someone who would at least pretend to care for her one time before she died. And Kiyotaka Ishimaru, while normally extremely rule-abiding, seemed to understand. After all, there was nothing like this forbidden in Monobear's rules.

"Did you find…" she trails off. He seems to know exactly what she's talking about, though, because he turns bright red and nods, pulling a box of condoms out of his top desk drawer. "O-oh. Good."

"Yes," he says, and forces a laugh. "It would not do to have a child running around in this environment!"

She nods and he sits down at his desk and begins unlacing his boots. It's probably going to take a while, so she tosses her shirt into a corner and takes off her shoes and socks, a bit leery of taking off her tanktop and skirt, even though it was her idea and she knows that Ishimaru will stop if she asks him to. He's just that idiotically moral.

He takes off his tanktop next, and even though she could see most of just how muscular he was with the tanktop on, she's still in awe. The uniform he wears doesn't do him justice. Encouraged, she takes off her tanktop, leaving her in her plain black bra, long skirt, and underwear.

"Ah…" he says. "I, ah, I've never done this before. So, if you would… tell me what to do…"

She swallows and the two of them are stuck in a sort of limbo, him shirtless with his pants on, her shirtless with her skirt on. He seems to be having some sort of internal battle with himself, his hand inching toward the button on his pants. He swallows, and in one fluid motion, his pants are of and neatly folded on the dresser, and then he stands before her just in his underwear.

It's her turn now, and she has never felt so self-conscious in her life. What if he laughs at her and flings open the door and then they all see her in her underwear, expecting something and getting nothing, just like always. He notices her hesitation.

"Ah, that was too forward of me, was it? I apologize, Fukawa-kun, I'll just- I'll just get you your shirt and you may leave," he says, and she shakes her head.

"N-no, it's fine," she says. She'll just take out her hair first. She'll work up the nerve to take her skirt of after that – she shaved this morning, she took a shower and she washed her hair and she shaved _everywhere_, she made herself desirable, at least somewhat, for this encounter, but now she can feel the sweat sticking her underwear to her skin and she's so aware of how small her breasts are compared to some of the other girls and how one wash isn't going to make her hair beautiful.

"Would you like me to help?" he asks after he sees her struggle with one braid. She half-shrugs, and he sits down on the bed next to her, carefully picking her hair out of its braid, bright red the entire time.

As soon as both of her braids are undone, she slides out of her skirt before she can hold herself back any longer. She feels a flush go through her entire body when she looks at Ishimaru's almost totally unclothed skin, that flush that always goes through when she looks at a man this muscular and built without much clothing.

They're both sitting on the bed, unsure, until he puts a hand on her leg and she kisses him. It's fumbling and awkward and somehow incredibly sweet and endearing. He's red and shaking and she's pretty sure she is, too, and then his hands are on her waist and her arms are wrapped around his neck. Her eyes are shut tightly and she remembers _just then _that she forgot to take off her glasses.

Maybe he won't notice.

Or maybe he'll remember at the exact same time and take one of his hands off of her to put her glasses on her pile of clothes. "You have beautiful eyes, Fukawa-kun," he says, and his face is almost as red as his eyes. It's strange, his eye color – almost like something out of a game or a romantic vampire novel. It can't be natural.

She doesn't know how to respond to his compliment so she kisses him again, and he pulls her onto his lap. She wraps her legs around his waist, utterly aware of how flabby and soft they are against his muscular chest, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, from the way his cock is hardening against the inside of her thigh is any indication, he far from minds.

He brushes her hair away from her face and looks straight at her. "Are you sure?" he asks. She nods, and he swallows and reaches for the box of condoms. She feels that heat again, it's so overwhelming it's almost _painful_, she's so wet right now and the way his muscles are stretching to get that box of condoms without knocking her off isn't helping one bit.

He opens the box and nearly drops the condom as he opens it. She steadies his hand with her own just slightly steadier one, and eventually he gets it open. "Alright," he says. He laughs nervously. "Ah, Fukawa-kun… would you mind…"

She scoots off of him and he pulls down his underwear and she can't stop staring. She's bright red, she knows it, and he is too as he rolls the condom over his cock. She gets out of her underwear as fast as she can, noticing that, yes, she is very wet and, yes, the condom is on and she is ready, so why is he still just sitting there?

She grabs his wrists and pulls him closer to her, kissing him on the mouth and guiding his hips toward her, spreading her legs and lying back on his bed. "A-ah, Fukaw-"

"Touko," she breathes, because this is a scene right out of her romance novels, except shouldn't she be the stuttering one? "Call me Touko. If you can stand to fuck someone as disgusting as me, you can call me by my first name, too."

He swallows and kisses her, like he can't bring himself to actually fuck her. She keeps one hand on the back of his head and uses the other to find his cock, guiding it. She slides her fingers into herself, rubbing her clit and letting out a strangled moan. "C'mon," she pants, turning her face to the side. "J-just…"

He swallows and nods, and she takes her hand out of herself and it's replaced immediately by his cock. She's so wet and he's not unmanageable, so it doesn't really hurt, in fact, it feels so _nice. _She clutches his back, moaning, and he pants into her neck as he thrusts, hands tangled in her hair.

They're both sweaty, sweaty and red-faced and it feels so good, and then he hits _that spot _and she can't help but cry out louder than the moans before and she's so glad that these walls are sound-proof, so, so very glad.

"A-are you okay?" he asks, pausing, and she nods.

"D-don't stop, please don't stop," she manages, and he nods, swallowing, and she's never felt so alive or loved, even though she knows deep down that this is just a pity fuck, this is just something that he's doing because she looked so pathetic while asking, but she doesn't really _care_, he's caring and he's attractive and she loves it.

He thrusts one last time and grunts, and then it's over. He backs up, bright red, and stands up. She props herself up on her elbows. She's sweaty and tired and _content_ – it's not quite happiness, no, not quite, but she's content.

By the time he comes back, she's curled up on her side on his bed, fast asleep. When she wakes up, there's a plate of food next to her and she's been covered up, and she wonders if, maybe she wouldn't mind someone other than Byakuya-sama if it meant that that someone was like Kiyotaka Ishimaru.

* * *

**This is my first time writing smut where at least one of them wasn't an alien so um yeah! There's that. But um, I hope it's at least decent? Anyway, this was written for an anon on Tumblr, who wanted some ishikawa smut, so, here it is!**


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